


What Makes a Home

by mrdmonster



Series: Together is a Promise [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Cliffhangers, Gen, Minor Character Death, Sad and Happy, This will be sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26207491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrdmonster/pseuds/mrdmonster
Summary: While King Nikiforov tries his best to end the Great War, his wife and son are attacked in the palace. Desperate to keep their legacy safe, during battle, the King and Queen send Viktor away to the well-hidden home of the Katsuki family -childhood friends of the Queen.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov
Series: Together is a Promise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903297
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. When Ice Cracks

**Author's Note:**

> First time publishing a fic.  
> Using Viktor with a K because the Russian 'c' sounds like an 's' usually.  
> The nicknames are as follows (name, normal/ general, sweet/ family, and chastise):  
> Marina- Mara/Rina- Marisa - Marinka  
> Dmitri- Dima- Miten’ka- chastise- Mit’ka  
> Viktor- Vitya- Viten'ka - Vit'ka
> 
> This is definitely just the beginning, there should be 3 parts by the time the whole journey is over. 
> 
> Magical knowledge gets peppered in as we go.
> 
> The boys are children. Their relationship is friendship so don't at me. General relationship refers to married adults.

“It’s too dangerous to leave him here, Dima.” Queen Marina was busy packing some of their son’s clothes into a bag while her husband stood dumbstruck in the middle of the room. She’d already been in the middle of this task when he came in to say their presence would be needed on the battlefield sooner rather than later. It didn’t matter he’d returned from six months on the front lines that night, not to him and even less to the council.

“I’m sure Yakov-” The newly returned king tried to reassure his wife but he could feel the fear and anger in them. Her hissed response told him that his response was not only unwelcome at this time but that she heard his silent plea to keep their conversation far below the yelling threshold for Vitya’s sake.

“No,” the shirt in her hand was balled up as she thrust her finger towards Dmitry violently. “He was here even if you weren’t and we were still vulnerable inside the walls. Without magic, I doubt we’d have a son still! He can’t stay.” Thrusting it inside the bag punctuated her frustration. There were things she hadn’t had a chance to tell her husband from his time away and using them as ammunition in this argument was unfair. But she didn’t have time to care because she would protect her son this time.

Abandoning the bag on the floor, Marina sat on the bed where her child now slept, shoulders slumped forward as though weighed down by the troubles of the world. One heavy hand lay on the blanket above the now-healed arrow wound on his side, the other curling around the delicate necklace she wore.

She didn’t want to remember the events of four months ago. She didn’t want to remember how she had failed to protect her 7-year-old son, how he had come running to her, hand pressed over his left eye as tears flowed freely from both. How her instincts made her pull him to her chest so she could face his pursuer which left his small body open to catch the arrow flying for her side. The fact she hadn’t noticed their attackers before it was too late. She didn’t want to remember the distinct thunk as it sunk into his soft stomach as the already bloody knife embedded itself in her arm, the second attacker braving close combat. How she’d been so focused on her son bleeding out in her arms she’d lost track of the world and released a heavy wall of magic to protect them.

They only had their lives because Yakov had been looking for his wayward student.

At the stricken look on his face, she guessed her choke order on the almost successful assassination attempt had done its job. With words light enough to be carried off on the smallest breeze Marina continues, “I didn’t want you to know how bad I failed you, how I’d failed Vitya. Do you understand why he can’t stay here?” Her skill on the battlefield had outshone every soldier when they first married and only continued to grow. A loss on the homefront had allowed space in her heart for the ill-meaning to sow their seeds of unworthiness. Dmitry hadn’t known how deep the roots were until now.

His sad eyes watched as she rolled the warded talisman between her fingers, remembering the silence in the halls at his return and the tension his wife carried daily, the daggers she and Vitya carried at all times. All of these in answer to the attack he’d been away for. The letters he received on the frontline had hinted at an attack but Yakov had failed to mention the severity of the curses which laced the weapons and left scars on his family.

Dmitry knew his Mara was smarter and stronger than he was so if this was how she saw the situation, he’d yield to her caution. Cupping a cheek with one hand he dragged her eyes to his own and gave his agreement. “You want to send him there?” His hand drifted down to brush the fingers gripping the small charm around her neck.

“I have no doubt they’d take care of him like one of their own. Besides, they took care of me, didn’t they?” Dmitry watched some of the tension evaporate, her hands grasping his to pull it to her lips for a soft kiss of thanks. Hot tears burned in the corner of her eyes but she refused to let them fall, not when there were so many more important things she needed to do in such a short time. Their departure, only days away, left just enough time for everyone to converge on the Capitol and gather supplies for the march.

He pulled her into his embrace and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head breathing out, “They did a wonderful job, Marisa; we’ll finalize things in the morning. There’s no reason we can’t try to rest while we have the chance.” His free hand slid soft through long silver locks as he spoke, more tension flowing away with each stroke.

“Ok, Miten’ka. First thing when we wake up. Everything is better during daylight,” the Queen proclaimed, even if she didn’t believe a word she was saying. She pulled away from his arms to place a soft kiss on the still sleeping Viktor, face soft in unworried slumber despite his quarreling parents. Dmitry pulled her into his side and they stood vigil, his eyes finding the smallest scar on his left eyebrow in the gentle light from the moonlight. He knew there was another on his stomach, hidden by his shirt and the covers. A shiver wracked him at the implication that he could have never seen his son and wife again.

This small bubble of calm is how their lives should have been, soft, and full of love instead of pain. So now, with limited time, Dmitry decides that he would give his wife no reason to chastise or argue her case again. Viktor’s protection would be guaranteed one way or another.

***

Neither King nor his Queen slept well. They managed fitful rest until the early hours of the morning before the sun could be bothered to show itself. In the darkness, they prepared for the royal family’s inevitable departure.

Marina crafted a quick but well-coded letter requesting a place for her son until they could return for him, or until his Bestowment. She was pleased to receive an immediate response. Her friends had heard about the war’s escalation and would be happy to take on Vitya. They would need a week to prepare for their arrival, something the Queen couldn’t help but be thankful for. Three days of preparation and four days of travel would give the monarchs a good start towards their final destination on the Southern front as well as time to spend with their son.

Marina said as much in her final letter, sending it out as the sun poked itself the tiniest bit over the horizon. The next letter she wrote was crafted with extreme care though she hoped it never had to be opened.

King Dmitry had been working on preparing their troops for deployment, uncaring of the hour as his orders were fulfilled. The council had known sending both rulers into battle was inevitable so the rallying orders for the military had been sent out the same day the king had returned. The reports he received stated they were about a day and a half from being at full force. Other regiments were either preparing to depart or had already begun their trek to the West. In addition to his own country’s troops, their allies had portions of their armies marching through distant Artyan borders to meet up for this push.

The King wanted the Great War to end. It had plagued the whole of the Magical Realm for hundreds of years, stealing precious time from his, his father’s, his grandfather’s, millions of childhoods’ lives. And now his son. It had to end; which is the reason he was calling Marina onto the field as well. Their magic was strong apart but together they could do impossible things, and right now the kingdom needed the impossible.

Between the reports and orders, the King wrote his own letters before his attention would be required elsewhere. First, to Yakov trying to explain the situation. Viktor would be staying with undisclosed allies until he and Mara could retrieve him, or until his 12th birthday- the Bestowment. Should the monarchs perish in their endeavor Yakov would be Regent until the time Viktor determined he was ready to take the throne. The King also gave his mentor permission to clean up the court as best as he could in their absence. His letter closed with, _should the war, at last, come to an end and ourselves with it, care for him as you cared for me. Thank you, Dima._

In a letter from his station as King, he declared Yakov the Regent until the time Crown Prince Viktor could take his place on the throne. Stipulations such as minimum age, magical and military education, and others would allow Viktor to push off ascending until he decided he was fit for it. This way he couldn’t be forced to rule unprepared and voiceless by those who would wish him ill. It was lucky, despite his being angry all the time, Yakov was well-liked by most of the court so, however long his tenure lasted, the man would be accepted.

The last letter he wrote was for Viktor, filled with tricks of the kingly trade as well as all of the love he could manage to fit on three pages of paper- his self imposed limit. Dmitry had tried to be a good father but he knew from his own childhood that a father at war was worth little. His shortcomings stared back at him from the page but he had little chance to change any of them. This letter ends, _Although I am gone, know that I never wanted to leave you behind. I was doing my best to make sure this war didn’t take over your life like it did mine but I realize I could have been there for you more. There’s so much I wish we could do but even the greatest mages cannot force time to bend to their will._

_I don’t want this to be the last thing you hear from me but if it is, know I love you._

Dmitry ended there for what else could be said? His letter joined Masha’s which would follow them into war, neither tempted to read their love’s final words to their son. Neither acknowledged the absence of letters for the other; for they had long ago come to the agreement if they walked onto the battlefield together they left in the same fashion or not at all.

Viktor’s jubilant entrance into their joint office signaled the beginning of their day, their child bright and energetic despite the early hour. And for a short while, they could believe their son’s world wasn’t about to change.

The trio sat to eat before the Prince mentioned the packed clothes in his room. “Am I going somewhere? There was a bag of my clothes on the floor when I woke up.” He didn’t seem bothered by it, taking a nonchalant sip of tea before wiping his mouth and returning to his food to give his parents time to answer.

“We’re going to ride together for a few days, Vitya. Then you’re going to spend time with some friends of mine. Doesn’t taking an adventure sound fun?” Despite every attempt to not show tension or distress, their son was smart and well attuned to his mother especially following their brush with death. She expected the clang of silverware on porcelain, not the frown of thought accompanying the crinkling between his eyebrows as cutlery was clenched in small hands.

“Where are you two going?” He may as well have been asking a wall for all the information he didn’t get while his parents communicated through raised eyebrows and head motions. It was too bad there were tapestries and portraits on the walls, he knew the look on his papa’s face. “You’re going back to war,” everything about him dropped as he spoke, his voice, his face, and finally the fork and knife.

Viktor believed he was reasonably well-behaved and asked for so little from his parents for his 7 years but this wouldn’t do. He’d been trying his best to be brave and strong after recovering, to protect his mother from the nastiness of the courtiers, to learn everything he needed to become a great king. But they couldn’t carry on like this, he couldn’t leave them again. The Prince wasn’t sure how he was expected to survive all on his own within these unfeeling walls.

He took a steadying sip of tea before speaking with a stronger voice. “You can’t go,” his words punctuated by the clink of a teacup on the saucer, “you just got back! You’re supposed to take me riding and show me how to use fire, you’re supposed to be here.” With each impassioned word, Viktor sat straighter in his seat, head hanging just enough for his hair to disguise the distress in his eyes, and slammed the tea set onto the table when he finished speaking. He didn’t think the tears burning his eyes would fall but they threatened with every word and sharp wave of his newly empty hands. “You can’t leave us again, we need you! And I can’t leave mom here alone!” It was a testament to his distress he hadn’t noticed the ice encasing his hands or the shards scattered across the table.

Where he previously felt frozen to the chair Dmitry practically flew out of his as his son’s distress crossed from internal to dangerously external. He wrapped warmer than normal arms around his son and rocked, stroking his long hair at a soothing tempo. “Breathe, Vitya.” A stuttering breath but stable nonetheless. “Good, just like that. In and out. Take a breath and feel your magic, let it out and remember; you control it. It does not control you. In and out.”

As mages, they all knew how emotions could cause bursts of magic but Viktor had been displaying his magical abilities for years. Most children didn’t show displays of their primary magical affiliation until closer to their Bestowment but Viktor’s had appeared about a month before his fourth birthday. It began as little puffs of chilled wind but it became clear His Royal Highness was extremely powerful. And because of this Viktor was never far from a Cardinal or Void class practitioner in the event his own powers went out of control.

It didn’t take long for it to become clear the Prince’s main element of the Cardinal class was ice. They’d been having to talk Viktor down from periods of high emotion for three years and despite his disappearing father act every few months, Dmitry was more than able to provide this comfort. No, more than that, the King was happy to be of service to his son in this way at least.

When the ice disappeared, a joint effort by father and son, Viktor pushed his papa away indicating their conversation was in no way over on account of his outburst. As he sat, the King continued the conversation as though nothing happened. “Vitya, I don’t intend to leave your mother here alone, she's joining me on the battlefield.”

Betrayed blue eyes locked with his mother’s to confirm or deny but instead finds the tear tracks on her face caused by his outburst. He didn’t know they’d begun long before the sting of frigid air assaulted her eyes. She offered him a watery smile as she spoke, “I can’t leave you here either. That’s why you’re going to stay with my friend until this is over. Please, Viten’ka,” neither knew what she was truly asking for, except they did. She was asking for obedience and an end to the disagreements, he heard the plea for forgiveness at leaving him behind. He’d give her both.

“When do we leave?”

“Two days. You’ll ride with us until preparations for your stay have been completed.” The conversation had ended and Viktor knew this wasn’t his papa, this was King Dmitri Nikiforov of Artya.


	2. We Don't Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days of riding and meeting the Katsuki family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artya- "Art-ey-ah"  
> Calacia- "Ka-lay-sha"  
> Pacenia- "Pa-sen-ee-a"

For two days Viktor avoided his parents physically as they avoided him emotionally, choosing to play with the children of the courtiers instead of attending lessons, running amok in the gardens, or icing over the small pond so he could slide around while giving his guards the runaround. The wayward Prince found many new hiding places during the long stretches of self-imposed solitude but had no time to share them with his friends. 

Viktor had noticed the flurry of activity brought on by his father’s return to court give way to utter chaos the day before their departure as the sun reached its zenith. He’d watched on as an older general was escorted off palace grounds, confused but unconcerned until he overheard the general had been Nikolai Plisetsky. The courtiers had plenty to say, it just so happened all of it was useless to his young ears. 

“Exiled for treason,” many whispered before following with some combination of the following: “They say young Lady Anya found letters from the Claican military tucked into a journal he was letting her borrow.” Or, “Soldiers intercepted a letter going out about His Royal Highness leaving the palace accompanied by Our Majesties,” all assured of their understanding of the situation. 

But for all of their whispers, Viktor was troubled by the betrayal in another way. Nikolai had always been kind to him and more than once helped him learn how to control his magic, understand an assigned passage, or sneak into the kitchens for a midnight snack whenever he awoke from a nightmare. Unlike his relationship with Yakov, Nikolai shared his affections freely and constantly said Viktor’s grandfather would have been proud of the young Prince’s accomplishments in magic and education. 

He wondered if it was wrong to disagree with everyone’s dismissal of the kind old man. In his heart, Viktor knew a betrayal was possible as much from the exiled Nikolai as it was from Yakov which meant it was impossible. But there was nothing he could do now, not from his position high above the palace grounds and not from his position as His Royal Highness. 

***

As the sunset on this day of rumor and vitriol, Viktor was coming in from the garden when he watched Yakov and his papa slide into a meeting room without closing the door completely. “-sure you want to give this to me?” Yakov’s gruff voice questioned. The Prince crept ever closer, glued with his back to the wall, more curious than he should be considering his recent behavior.

“I know you’ll keep it safe. Do you know how many possible gifts we collected on our honeymoon in Pacenia? Masha fought so hard, even though I hadn't suggested otherwise, because our children would get my culture, my last name, and she made sure to choose this. Gods, even then I would have let her do anything she wanted and now with all that's happened; I love her more every day.” The watery laugh that followed made Viktor’s stomach flip. “Just- hold on to it until we get back, alright?” King Dmitry's voice had a strange waver to it which prompted the young mage to peek through the crack in the door. Inside, papa had wrapped both hands around one of Yakov’s own, the only father-figure he had, the advisor using his remaining hand to pull the king closer. Hunched over in the hug Viktor could see their shoulders shaking and carried by the silence, the hitching of breath over tears. 

Having experienced the events in the room, and feeling the guilt of avoiding his parents, he rushes to their chambers to find his mother getting ready for dinner. Everything stops when he slams into her and hugs her with everything he’s got. It’s not until the boy feels his lungs begin to burn that he noticed he’d stopped breathing too. “What’s this, Viten’ka?” Her hand finds its way to his hair and she strokes the soft strands until he finds the strength to pull away enough to look her in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry I avoided you for so long, mama.” He’s overcome and has to bury into her warmth once again to calm down. This time, he feels her fingers stroking the tiny scar bisecting the tail of his left eyebrow and he mumbles out, “I never blamed you, mama.” The only proof he’d been heard was the return of a hand stroking his hair. 

They’re eventually pulled from their conversation by a servant summoning them to dinner. Viktor wipes viciously at his face to remove evidence of tears before escorting his mama down, one relationship repaired. He can only hope for a fraction of the same understanding from his father, but he has hope anyways. 

Dinner is quiet, everyone’s emotions stripped raw before sitting down together, carrying the weight of knowing what looms on tomorrow’s horizon. At the end of the meal, Viktor decides to end the stalemate he’d begun and make his play. “Papa, we’ll be riding together for a few days; I’m excited to see what’s out beyond the capitol. Do you think you can teach me how to make sparks so I can light the fire in camp?” 

They all see it for the olive branch it is. And, luckily for Viktor, papa takes it and they spend dinner acting like tomorrow doesn’t exist. 

Later, if the King and Queen fall asleep with their son tucked between them, no one has to know. 

***

Despite rising with the sun on a daily basis, Viktor is not functional when he’s dragged from sleep and encouraged to get ready for the day. Once he’s managed to dress and perform minimal morning ablutions the trio descends to the stables where they’re met with a flurry of activity. Viktor tucks in close to his mother despite her soft curves being covered by armor like his father and the other soldiers around them so he doesn’t get lost in their fervor. 

The warhorses are huge and foreboding, or it feels like it, this early in the morning. Viktor’s half-asleep mind only sees monsters so when he’s helped into the saddle of his own horse, small hands cling to the pommel and flashes a look of pure terror to his mom. When she’s settled into her own saddle, she reaches strong arms out and he practically jumps into her arms. With the addition of a blanket, he’s comfortable enough for the time being. His abandoned steed gets handed off to Lord Popovich, for ponying until the Prince is ready to ride alone. 

They move through the town at a steady pace, careful not to accidentally take out anyone who's already awake and starting their day. Viktor watches as small groups of people gather to wave them on, some crying as others cheer regardless of the time. Before they reach the edge of the city, his mama circles a strong arm around his waist whispering a warning for him to hold on. He manages to grab the pommel as the horses break into a gallop. 

He may or may not lose a yelp to the wind at the initial shock of speed but in no time, he’s laughing and mama lets him hold the reins. He doesn’t need to be told it's his mama keeping them in the correct formation via complex vocal and leg commands. Ahead of them rides his papa, long blonde hair doing its best to outshine the sun as it rises above the horizon. 

Their small group stops once the sun eked past the horizon entirely. The Queen directs her horse into a lazy turn so Viktor can see the long train of soldiers behind them before locking eyes with his previously abandoned horse. “Well, Vitya? I know they’re a little bigger than what you’re used to but he isn’t so scary now, is he?” 

All she gets is a shake of his head before the King comes to their side and offers a hand. “War Horse Riding 101 is now in session.” They both laugh a little since Viktor’s been in saddles since his magic presented itself but he’s never been allowed to ride anything this tall and he’d prefer not to be alone. His parents work in tandem to transfer him from one saddle to the other, everyone relaxing against their own steeds, content to watch their Crown Prince and King have this at least. 

“You must know the name of your horse. Mine is Aza, your mother has named hers Indrik as some kind of joke, I’m sure,” he finishes when he sees the flash of concern on Viktor’s face because of the demon horse myth. Marina has disappeared from her saddle so she cannot assuage their son and in moments like this, the King wishes he’d had more time with Viktor before. 

It takes time for the shock to fade but Viktor takes the information in stride continuing, “So, papa, what is the name of this horse?” 

Dima pats its thick neck before stroking down the middle of a dark brown muzzle, “Arman. Yakov has been training him so you shouldn’t have trouble once you have all of the commands down. In fact, all Artyan war horses are trained with the same commands as a safeguard…” The words die in his throat because regardless of his skill Vitya is young and he shouldn’t have to know why each horse is trained the same. 

By the time the rest of the caravan reaches them Viktor’s still reliant on his parents’ ability to keep their horses from doing constant circles, an unfortunate result of his unease and their sensitivity to any movement or sound. Their small group is thoroughly entertained at the Crown Prince’s attempts to drive his father and horse into trees and rocks. The King is patient and by the time they’re ready to move out again, he leans back in the saddle and allows Viktor to direct the horse with minimal interference since they’ll be walking until around midday. 

When asked about going so slow, the answer is simply, “We have time.” 

They stop for an hour when they reach a river. Everyone settles down to rest through the hottest part of the day, lunch is eaten at leisure before or after a nap as the time is their own. For Viktor, his horse is tied to a length of rope and he tries riding Arman without help despite his papa keeping close and holding the loose end in his strong hands. Viktor doesn’t succeed on the first day. 

By the time the sun starts going down Viktor is with his father beside a pile of logs, mama off in a large tent he won’t be allowed in until the other generals leave. For now, papa is taking him through the process of trying to make flames appear on his fingertips. They’d already discussed the necessity of observing each element before attempting to create it years ago. The sun’s completely gone before he can get anything more tangible than sparks. Used to magic coming easier than this, the King reminds him that very few children begin to exhibit any powers at his age, let alone before. Sure fingers snap once and the logs catch the flame licking the King's thumb. 

After dinner they spend hours around the fire, Vitya trying to manipulate flames already present to burn brighter and hotter, coaxing them higher before pushing them into nothing but embers like he’d seen his papa do before. But the most the young mage can do is hold a small lick of flame in his hands for a scant moment before it has to be returned to the fire. Viktor is asleep before his mother emerges from the war tent and is carried to bed by his parents for the first time in many years. 

***

On the second day, he begins in the saddle with his father, still uncomfortable in the early morning light to take control of Arman. After lunch, he’s learning how to control the direction of a steed using his legs and a combination of clicks and other vocals. He’s alone in the saddle when they set out again but he’s still ponying with his parents so he may experiment with what he learned earlier without consequence. Both Aza and Indrik are forgiving the few times he directs them too close to each other. 

When they stop for dinner, Viktor rushes to stack wood and prepare for his lesson on summoning flames. By the time papa sits down beside him he’s been imagining little tongues of flame for so long he’s convinced warm balls of light will be there when he opens his eyes. They aren’t but his hands are shrouded by warm light and the King gives praise for the feat. After some additional coaching, the sparks flit between his fingers but he still can’t create a true flame. Papa reminds him of his improvement from yesterday and they sit at the fireside the king snaps into existence until mama joins them. His attempts to mimic his father’s simple fire manipulation are clumsy but visible. Her smiles and amazement remind him that for all her great powers, Cardinal magic is not one of her abilities, but she praises him all the same. 

The next day sees him ride out in his own saddle, reigns in hand, and ponying left behind. His parents save him from small accidents throughout the ride but either way, he’s riding on his own. During lunch, the lessons change from walking to trotting even though his mama says the army will be walking for most of the journey. At dinner Viktor manages to click a small flame onto the wood, gently coaxing it to grow and eat the logs like his father’s flames do. 

When the King sees the flames, a smile lights up his face and he grabs his son in celebration, tossing him up on broad shoulders like Viktor weighs nothing. They prance around camp with the King squawking out, “I have the smartest son in the Realms!” Upon their return to the fire, the Queen was there, smiling at their antics and relishing the joy. 

The next morning plays out much the same as the rest since their departure. Riding in the dim hours of the morning, stopping for midday, hours ticking by as they advance to the end of their march to set up camp. But this time, when camp is set up his mother doesn’t disappear into the war tent and papa doesn’t set up wood for a fire. They don’t bother dismounting the King simply scoops his son from the saddle and they set off towards the setting sun. Viktor’s fingers clutch at the pommel in fear of not the horse but instead of what comes next. 

They don’t stop when a magic circle appears in the distance straight in front of them. The Queen rides harder, reaching the circle and slowing enough for the King to pass before following through. The light of the spell is too bright for Viktor to see past the ring to their destination but when they emerge, he’s shocked to see a field lit up by the slowly descending crescent moon. He’s studied enough maps to know they’re much farther away from home than he ever thought he’d be. For the most part, the world around them is devoid of human life, fields of long grass studded with small bursts of light, and a line of trees parting to show soft light beckoning them to it. 

The horses devour the distance with ease and soon he can see the outline of two people standing outside a two-story house with a strangely oversized roof and porch wrapping around the whole thing, just there in the middle of nowhere. The style is different from anything he’s studied or knows but doesn’t want to ask where they are. 

By the time the horses slow, one of the figures is running towards them and Viktor watches astonished as his mother launches from the horse and bundles into the small woman’s arms. 

The King is slower to dismount before reaching up to remove Viktor and untying the smaller of the two bags, packed a week ago for this very moment. He kneels before his son and smiles, Viktor pretends not to notice the pain in eyes the same bright blue as his own. Dmitry cups a small wind-worn cheek in his hand and rubs the chapped skin with soft strokes of his thumb, “Since you’re on your way to mastering fire, what element would you want me to teach you next, Vitya?”

“Lightning! Papa, teach me lightning.” There was no question, lightning was the King’s element like ice was Viktors and his whole life, he had never wanted anything more than to be a Cardinal Master like his papa. 

The King lets out a laugh and rests their foreheads together as they embrace, “Alright, Vitya. I’ll teach you lightning on our way home.” 

They’re interrupted by Marina who introduces the couple he’s going to be staying with, “Vitya, these are my friends Hiroko and Toshiya. Come introduce yourself.” 

Viktor had opened his mouth to obey his mama when a pair of bed rumpled children spilled out of the house. The smallest had one hand grasping at the clothes of their sibling while balancing what looked like a stuffed kitten in the crook of their arm, the other hand pawed at tired eyes. “Mama, Yuuri had a bad dream.” 

Hiroko shuffled off to comfort Yuuri, the older child now advancing on the group of people outside her house. “I guess you’re Prince Viktor. Welcome, I’m Mari.” The girl didn’t offer her hand but she did bow so he mirrored the move, unsure who these people were to his mother let alone their customs. In short order, his entire host family was standing before him, Yuuri perched on his mother’s hip and his expression somewhere between shy and exhausted. 

“Thank you for allowing me to stay with you, I’m Viktor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“We’ll take good care of you, Viktor. Welcome to the Katsuki household.” Toshiya’s words must have been some kind of spell because they all bowed at the end. It could have practiced but it felt organic somehow. Having already mirrored the position once, he didn’t feel comfortable doing it again so he gave a head nod after looking at his parents for guidance. Their names sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it so he shook the thought away and relaxed. If mama believed in the Katsuki’s more than Yakov, he’d believe in them too. 

They were brought onto the porch and it became painfully obvious the time of his parent’s departure was nigh. Paying no mind to his hosts, Viktor rushed his mama and held onto her like his life depended on it and tried to hold back the tears. She folded around him like every other time he’d needed her comfort, hands running through his moonlight hair and rocking back and forth. They only broke down when his father’s arms pulled them into an embrace. 

The royal family took time to compose themselves, long enough for the Katsuki family to make themselves scarce so as not to intrude on their goodbyes. Viktor spoke first, “You’re coming back to get me, right? You won’t leave me here?” He used the sleeve of his shirt to collect warm tears from his eyes before any more could fall. 

“We have to, Vitya. I promised to teach you how to summon lightning on the ride home, didn’t I?” 

Mama’s laugh was watery but the joy was honest. “Of course you did, Dima.” She pulled Viktor’s head up a little and kissed his forehead, fingers stroking through familiar silver strands. “We’ll see each other again, my Viten’ka. I love you.” 

Declarations of love from each followed but never once did they say goodbye. Goodbyes felt permanent, like the end of something. They didn’t dare tempt the universe. 

He stayed on the porch as they mounted Aza and Indrik and tracked their figures across the open field getting smaller with every stride. The horizon shone with the appearance of a magic circle, watched as the sky returned to the weak light of the slivered moon once more. Viktor realized he’d been out here all night when the sun began peeking over the tops of the trees. 

Intent on going inside the house for the first time, wandering eyes catch on the person stationed on the other end of the porch. None of the Katsuki’s had hair as long as the person now deep into a large bottle of alcohol, either due to emotional or physical exhaustion Viktor didn’t care. They didn’t seem to notice the Artyan Prince so he slid inside and settled on the soft cushions in a large empty room, sleep taking him instantly. 


	3. Meet Me Where I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor learns how to live life with the Katsuki's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting. Something didn't feel right in the chapter but I've fixed it so please enjoy.
> 
> Also went back and fixed a few spelling brain farts, nothing's changed.
> 
> Age tracker (since I forget to write it in sometimes):   
> Viktor- 7 to 8  
> Yuuri- 4 to 5   
> Mari- 11 to 12

When Viktor woke up he noticed a few things: first he’d been transferred from the floor into a bed. Second, his hair had come out of its tie sometime during the night. His mind hadn’t allowed him to think he’d wake up at home or in the tent with his parents, nightmares stripping any true rest he could have found the night before. On top of that, this place made his skin crawl despite the assurance of safety. Bright blue eyes saw through the window opposite the bed and frowned at the expansive field before him. Who lives in the middle of nowhere, anyway? 

Despite wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep and pretend none of this was real, the Prince pulled himself out of bed and into the hall. He’d have to start his day sooner or later and his stomach was making its preference known. Confident fingers pulled long silver hair into a braid as he stepped past the threshold to his room, ribbon hanging limply between his teeth until it could execute its purpose. 

The trek downstairs was harder than he’d thought it would be, having lived in a much larger and more complex palace for his entire life. He opened his millionth door when a squeaky voice proclaimed, “Prince Viktor!” Startled eyes locked onto the small form of the youngest Katsuki who’d been racing down the halls, cloth in hand. The boy picked himself up off the floor and beamed while reaching out a small water wrinkled hand, chatting as he pulled the older boy along. “Mama said to bring you down when you woke up. It isn’t breakfast time anymore but she can make you a snack before lunch.” 

Viktor smiled at the young boy’s presence, so unaffected by the fact that his company was royalty that he hadn’t hesitated to link their hands together. With Yuuri leading them, Viktor found himself seated at a low table with some rice balls within 5 minutes. The boy had disappeared after delivering their visitor but Viktor found he didn’t mind being alone, the sound of Hiroko busy in the kitchen drifting around the corner as he ate caused some of the itching to fade. Ignorant of time, he’d been staring at his empty plate thinking about his host family when Yuuri rushed past the room like he had the devil on his heels. 

“Yuuri, we’re going to be on time. Slow down!” Mari’s voice chased her brother while she followed at a more sedate pace, calm and contained at 11 years of age. She stopped at the door to their dining room and looked him over, ticking up one dark brow before nodding as though she’d come to some kind of decision. “Lunch won’t be for a while, come walk with us.” 

Her tone left no room for disobedience and Viktor was more worried about sitting here and staring his life away than braving the outside world. So he followed her to the front hall where they all slipped on shoes, Mari shouting their departure and getting two calls of acknowledgment in return. Yuuri pushed his way between his companions and slipped his hands into theirs, swinging their arms happily. 

Viktor noticed Yuuri’s bag and was about to ask when Mari answered, “He has ballet lessons every day. Minako started teaching him while we were sailing but since we’re on indefinite shore leave, she’s decided to settle down as well. She lives just over the hill there. The town is just past that.” 

Viktor processes the information whole formulating his next question with more care than a child should have. “What do you mean by indefinite?”

It’s Yuuri who answers this time, the brightness not reflecting his older sibling’s tone at all. “Mama said we’re not going to go sailing for a while so we get to stay here! And you get to stay with us, Viktor!” 

The Prince doesn’t need to be smart to understand he’s the reason for their sudden lifestyle change. The walk takes no more than 10 minutes and when they’re close enough to see a woman on the large porch, apparently a common style here, Yuuri lets their hands go and runs up to her. She greets him excitedly, giving him a pat on the head before sending him around to the back of the house, his shoes disappearing somewhere in the process. Hair pulled back and flowing with the soft breeze, he thinks that this could have been the person from last night. Mari and Viktor follow at their previous pace, the elder Katsuki leading introductions. 

“Minako, this is Viktor. He’ll be staying with us for a while and Yuuri seems attached already. Viktor, Minako.” Mari then did an about-face and called over her shoulder as she left, “You stay here. I’ll be back before it’s time to go home.” 

Seemingly abandoned, Viktor watched the unknown adult out of the corner of his eye, jumping when her hand landed on top of his head and turned him towards the house. “Come on, Viktor, you can watch Yuuri. Mari can take care of herself.” Her hand slid from his head to his back as he tripped while taking his shoes off and she guided him around the deck and into a mirrored room. Yuuri had changed into slippers and was currently stretching while chatting away at the plush cat Viktor remembered seeing last night. 

Confused and shoeless, the Prince sat with his back resting against the wall, watching the proceedings with open curiosity. When Minako clapped, Yuuri clambered to some unmarked designated spot in front of the mirrors awaiting direction. Time flew by as Yuuri stretched under his teacher’s direction then moved to the barre for fundamentals. He was watching Yuuri spin across the floor attempting to mimic Minako’s graceful movements. The small boy’s excited flailing disrupted when Mari appeared at the door, her reflection prompting her brother to shout her name and abandon his task. 

Minako took the intrusion well and called the lesson complete for the day, sending the three back home as soon as Yuuri packed his slippers and toy back into the bag. 

When they returned lunch was served. Hiroko engaged with her children, happy to listen to the story of Viktor accompanying them to Minako’s house time and time again. After lunch, Yuuri disappeared with his father, and Mari drug Viktor out onto the road again. This time she had a bag of her own slung carelessly over her shoulder but their destination was the same. 

Viktor looked between the ballet teacher’s house and Mari and cocked his head asking, “You dance too?”

“If I ever feel like dancing, I’ll do it with Yuuri. You’ll see what we’re doing when we get there.” Unlike this morning, Minko wasn’t waiting for her student on the deck. Mari directed them to the back of the house but dropped her bag and indicated that Viktor should sit in the shade of the building before she went out and started stretching. 

“So you’re back, Viktor? That’s nice.” The Prince jumped out of his skin at the sound of the woman’s voice in his ear, her laughter allowing him to focus and pull his stomach from his chest. Minako joined Mari in the short grass and began shouting out commands Viktor didn’t recognize, but the movements were familiar. His mother trained like this. With some kind of affirmation, he didn’t realize he was looking for, the Prince trusted that his mother could believe in these people. 

Like with Yuuri’s lesson he watched them train, entranced by the fluid motions Minako performed versus the stilted ones Mari was capable of. After a while both women joined him in the shade, taking long drinks and wiping the sweat and dirt from their faces, wild strands of hair that had escaped their ties hugging sun-warmed cheeks. Long minutes passed in silence, Viktor now sure of their link to his mother but unsure of his place here at this moment. Mari had no such difficulty with her own words. 

“You’re more than welcome to join in our lessons, Prince Viktor, mine, and Yuuri’s. Both, one, none, it doesn’t matter,” it’s said so carelessly that Viktor doesn’t think that it’s a genuine offer. But he takes it into consideration regardless since both activities were not something he’d have been able to join back home.

Returning home once again Mari disappears leaving Viktor to sit in the dining area, listening to the sounds of a busy kitchen once more. He wonders when his own lessons will begin again, how long he’ll have this tutor before he gets to go home. He hopes beyond reason, whoever they are, they aren’t sinfully boring like his tutors back home. 

He doesn’t know he drifted off until there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder proclaiming, “It’s time for dinner, Viktor.” Opening his eyes confirms his suspicion that it was Yuuri, his place sitting directly next to the Prince just like it had been at lunch. Once the food is served, it’s Toshiya who breaks the silence. 

“I have your schedule for lessons prepared if you’re ready to begin again?” 

“Thank you, I’d like to not fall behind here, Mr. Katsuki.” He’s presented with a paper detailing his day, the hours he’d spent in the afternoon filled with simply being at Minako’s without demanding his participation. “I don’t have to participate in the classes?”

“No, you won’t be required to join either. However, if you decide you want to, the time is yours to fill. We’ll get you whatever supplies you need.” 

And so his days passed with lessons after breakfast, small chores, ballet with Yuuri- joined at the young boy's demand, lunch, watching Mari and Minako spar, chores, bath, more lessons, dinner, and studying before bed. His “royalty specific” lessons were taught by Toshiya while he jumped in with the Katsuki children’s tutors for everything else. Life was peaceful, predictable, and repetitive, but unquestionably calm in the absence of courtiers. 

That wasn’t to say that the Katsuki house was devoid of visitors, however. Most evenings found Minako and Toshiya drinking, sometimes inside but more often out on the engawa- the type of porch they had, their boisterous laughter directed to the forest when the night was calm. Sometimes people from the port town came and ate dinner, others came to Hiroko if they had suffered injuries too complex for others to heal, but they all shared stories of their sailing adventures with the three children. 

And somewhere as the days passed, the itching feeling disappeared and his nightmares decreased. He felt more focused and relaxed here in the open than he ever had at the Palace, especially after the assassination attempt.

***

On days without lessons, the Katsuki children toted the Prince through the fields finding shallow pools of water, the forest and her lake, and the port town past Minako’s house. He learned that the port was so small because it belonged to the Katsuki family and only those who worked for them lived there. It was primarily a place to store items or repair ships so there weren’t going to be any true visitors at the house. The shops that did exist were food-oriented because the sailors were used to buying items always elsewhere and bringing them back here; Viktor’s ballet slippers had been brought to the Katsuki house a week after requesting them by this system. 

Everything was predictable until it wasn’t. 

September, the month before Yuuri’s fifth birthday, Viktor had been complaining that there weren’t enough flowers to add to his braid when more sprung up from nowhere. Yuuri was excited about the additional blooms but Viktor grabbed the boy’s hand and towed him to the house before he could touch them. Their loud entrance alerted Toshiya that something was wrong so he looked up from his desk, the question clear in his eyes. 

“Yuuri was complaining that there weren’t enough flowers, and then more grew.” Viktor wasn’t sure that his host had understood his words because he sat in his chair, looking them over. The Prince didn’t understand his silence until Yuuri shoved a handful of flowers into his friend's face, even though Viktor knew any from outside had been left behind in haste. 

His look of concern morphed into confusion when Yuuri chirped, “I made them for you!” 

Despite the gift and good intentions, Viktor was still unsure what to make of the fact that Yuuri was now willfully performing magic around the same time he had back in Artya. Yakov had said that children could manifest magic when their body was ready, usually around 11 but the earlier it happened the more powerful a mage could become. Was this a good thing?

Yuuri dropped the hand holding flowers and frowned, gaze flitting between friend and father. Tears overwhelmed his vision and he dropped the flowers to hold his head in both hands, a sound of confusion escaping before he crumbled onto the floor. 

Unlike Viktor, the youngest Katsuki is showing signs of additional affiliations directly on the back of the first. Despite their rising concern, Toshiya and Hiroko begin to escort their son just as Viktor’s had. 

A magic tutor, Rem from Mern Bal, shows up at the beginning of the next week taking up one of the blocks for chores every day. 

***

Viktor knows the answer to many of the first questions Rem asks such as: How many types of affiliations are there? How does one achieve Master status in an affiliation? Can a mage master more than one affiliation? What is the point of the primary, secondary, etc. system of categorization? Is the primary affiliation always the affiliation a mage is most skilled in? 

Six. Mages must be able to perform the Mastery tasks outlined by tradition. If their skills allow it, a Mage can be declared a master of all 6 affiliations. When a mage’s powers first develop their primary affiliation is declared as the first type of magic they perform, followed by the rest. However, depending on training and skill, a Mage can overwrite the original categorization of their magic. 

The teacher explains over multiple lessons how some affiliations have more specializations than others. Ward magic may revolve around the glyphs but the ability to use multiple sequences at once, the amount of power used, and the intent of the Mage all affect how well a Ward will work; and in turn how skilled they are in their craft. Cardinal magic is not only the ability to use all four elements but also those in-between such as Viktor using ice and his father’s promise to teach him lightning. Fate magic is primarily divination and its facets but also healing, two specializations under one affiliation. 

From there it becomes much more difficult. Void magic is not only being able to nullify spells but creating barriers and creating interference areas. Dimensional mages are those that can conjure items, transport people or items from place to place, and even bend space and time to create pockets outside others’ influence. Thrall magic can be broken down into memory magic, compulsion, and emotional manipulation; depending on how it is used Thrall can be referred to as Blessing or Curse magic. 

The three children learn how to read Ward sequences, to understand what each line means to the spell and how much effort goes into creating these sequences. They look at some of the sequences from things found inside the house like Viktor’s ribbons, a teapot, even one of the doors. Mari is gone by the time Yuuri accidentally bleaches his stuffed cat via improperly powered Ward, the teacher kind enough to cancel the spell before it could suffer any further damage. Using it as a teaching moment, they’re taught about power and intent while casting, lunar cycles and their benefits, even how some Mages use blood to amplify their spells. 

***

For a year, nothing else out of the ordinary happens and Viktor is glad to be with this family in this place because the magic he learns is so different from that at home. He doesn’t have to be the best at anything here, he doesn’t have to hide parts of himself around these people. The Prince even manages to tap into more affiliations despite the confusion from their tutor.

The Katsuki’s, their children, and their charge live their quiet life filled with love, only nightmares and occasional letters from his parents remind him that this isn’t his real life. But even then, he doesn’t stop living like it. He gave Yuuri a stuffed poodle for his 5th birthday who’d been dubbed Vicchan immediately. Vicchan had become the vessel for one of Yuuri’s first complex spell successes, the Cheer Shine, a spell that not only let off a soft light but also warmed the user when hugged.

Mari’s 12th birthday present wasn’t as well-received but he’d seen her admire his Warded hair ribbons and made her some of her own, especially since her hair liked to come undone during training. He did notice one in Minako’s hair once when she was drinking on the engawa with Toshiya. But in fairness to himself very little can outdo Bestowment gifts or gaining one's primary magical affinity. 

Hiroko and Toshiya’s traditional gift from their children was a card and performance, something the siblings were more than glad to include him in. 

For his own birthday, his only wish was for them to call him Vitya which they fulfilled a million fold. He was given small tokens and stories from the years they sailed, things that could easily travel when he had to leave. Yuuri presented him with a rose based on the prince’s mention of missing the palace’s rose garden in some long-forgotten conversation. Thrilled at the uniqueness of the blue rose, Viktor encased it in ice. 

Yuuri makes him new ones anyways.

By the end of March, 4 months after his 8th birthday the letters from his parents would leave him smiling instead of pensive. They became longer and were filled with more anecdotes than those right after their deployment to the eastern border. Each one promised a swift end to the war, their victory on the horizon, and firmly within their grasp. Despite never being given the date he’d see them again, Viktor found himself looking forward to that future no matter how many months away it ended up being. 

He’d show his father how he’d learned how to summon every element except lightning and beg his mom to teach him the moves that he watched Minako perform with Mari; then he’d show off his affiliations. He even wanted to ask Yakov if he thought Lilia would continue teaching him ballet, an offer he’d once refused. 

*** 

One sticky September night at the end of summer the family was out in the town, laughing and cheering with the other’s as fireworks were set off above the water. Their dinner had consisted of whatever each villager had made to share, the Katsuki’s bringing Hiroko’s famous katsudon while Minako hauled booze and watermelons into town. Viktor couldn’t remember having more fun at a festival, nor could he remember being so tired that he needed to be carried home. The lethargy he felt disappeared at the appearance of a messenger hawk, his hand shooting up despite not being protected from the sharp claws. 

The hawk flew off after delivering its missive while Viktor tore into the envelope wondering what news his parents had for him tonight. The family reached home before he finished reading but when he was set down, he let out a disbelieving, “Oh.” 

Toshiya and Hiroko never asked to read his letters because they could usually tell what the pages contained just by watching Viktor’s face. This time, it was blank. There was no smile, no red or crinkled face to indicate impending tears, nothing.

With no small amount of trepidation, Toshiya asked, “Viktor, what did the letter say?” The family watched the young man they considered one of their own struggle out from the depths he’d been pulled into, depths they’d been warned about but never seen. 

Blue eyes cleared, focusing on the people before him as a pained smile settled on his face. “It’s just, they’re coming to get me tomorrow. Mama says there are only small battles left to be fought because the war is won, the Calicans retreated and will sign a treaty in the morning.” 

Toshiya deflated a small smile of his own gracing his face. “This is a good thing, Vitya. You’re going home tomorrow, aren’t you happy?” The diminutive put to use now that the tense situation has passed. 

“I won’t have a chance to tell everyone how much I’ll miss them, especially your family. Thank you for treating me so well, Toshiya.” He can feel the tears threatening but he refuses to let them fall over such happy news. 

His efforts are for naught when the patriarch pulls him into a hug and says, “You are our family and you always will be.” And when those tears do fall, the strong arms around him only pull him closer until they pull apart and Viktor motions to the house. 

Desperate to hide from their kindness Viktor throws on a weak smile and croaks, “I think I’ll go to bed, maybe pack up some of my things. Goodnight, Toshiya.” And he disappears into the house. It’s as he’s looking around his room that he wonders how you’re supposed to say goodbye to your best friend without saying goodbye. His own mother had been unable to visit her friends for years, would he be limited to messenger hawks and stolen moments away for the rest of his life? 


	4. Again, Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good, the bad, and the ugly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little on the shorter side but please enjoy.

The hawk that shows up the next day says the treaty signing has been pushed back to next week because the leader of Calacia had been gravely injured. They send their love with an apology. Viktor unpacks a few things and tells Yuuri he’ll be around for a few more days. The Katsuki’s and their charge live life as usual for a week. Then another week. A month passes in the same way and in the blink of an eye, Yuuri’s 6th birthday is on the horizon. 

The moon washes the room in its weak but sickly light, cold fingers the only thing holding the memory of the recent nightmare away. Hot tears spill while a small voice breaks through the silence of the night. “Vitya, are you alright?” Yuuri rubs tired eyes with one hand while the other clutches onto Vicchan. Obviously, the child had been sleeping until recently.   
  


Viktor sat up from his tightly curled position in order to see the other better in the darkness of the night. His own hands scrub themselves over warm cheeks to erase the evidence of his tears as he manages a weak response, “I’m fine, sorry if I woke you up. Please, go back to sleep.” 

“But you’re crying.” The small boy all but runs across the room to get to his friend’s side, the distress making his heart hurt. And with the uncanny ability to read Viktor like a book he asks, “Are you worried about your parents?” 

“Yes.” His voice is weak, the word breaking against the tears the older boy is trying to hold at bay. Although his parents had been communicating with him constantly, each delay to his departure allowed the fears of the early days to creep back in. 

The younger child put the stuffed puppy in his arms before pushing Viktor back to the pillows and climbing in so they could both cuddle with it. “If we’re together like this then Vicchan can watch over us both. He’ll protect us from bad dreams and monsters and I’ll protect you from everything else.” One hug activates the spell Yuuri placed into the toy and instead of the cold light of the moon, soft orange light emanates from Vicchan. The chill that crept into his heart with the nightmare easily thawed by the heat from the Cheer Shine. 

If Yuuri crept into his room every night after, no one mentioned it.

*** 

While Viktor prepared part of his surprise for Yuuri’s birthday out in the field, a hawk delivered a letter declaring ‘today.’ So he runs up to his room yelling out that his parents sent word, and packs what little he kept out of the bag for the past two months before dragging it down to the engawa, waiting for the inevitable light of the magic circle. Yuuri joined him with Vicchan tucked into his side once the sky filled with clouds to hide the setting sun. 

It’s in this lull that Viktor asks, “What magic do you like best, Yuuri?”

“A rose!” They both smile, the Prince had known what his friend’s answer would be. 

Still, he teases further, “I can’t make them like you can, Yuuri. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” 

Unwilling to upset his friend, he turns his back to Yuuri and cups his hands as though performing some secret spell to make his wish come true. He hands the ice rose over to the younger boy with a flourish before returning to his sight to the empty field once again. Yuuri sits with him and disappears once to retrieve dinner, not minding the silence and instead using the time to practice a few magic exercises.

The darkness of the cloud-covered moon allowed him to see the bright white light far afield from the house. They’re watching the rider advance when Toshiya and Hiroko burst from the home and look into the darkness. Viktor isn’t sure why they look so tense when they’re about to go back to a two-child household because his parents are coming to get him. He feels Yuuri’s hand pulling on the back of his shirt when the rider doesn’t slow down until they’re illuminated by the house lights. 

And this person isn’t his parents. It’s Anton Popovich. 

It's Popovich who dismounts gracelessly, one arm flying to his side where Viktor can see blood seeping into the fabric and dripping out of the jagged hole in his armor. 

It's Popovich who uses his dry hand to pull out a bundle from one of the damaged saddlebags. Who presses stained paper and a chain into his hands before being rushed inside to be tended to and delivering the news they knew upon seeing his face. 

Viktor wants to disappear or break down but instead, he’s frozen in place while the world continues on around him. He knows that Mari runs over to Minako’s house, that Yuuri had been ordered inside while Hiroko and Toshiya tended to Anton. 

He’s aware of Yuuri’s small hand finding its way back into his own at some point, just long enough for Viktor to hear them called to bed. But Viktor is still frozen.

Toshiya and Minako try to persuade him back into the house but he doesn't move, standing watch over the empty stretch of land far into the night. When the sun rises in the east he feels betrayed by nature but instead of allowing the rays to shine over his skin Viktor turns to the west and runs. He breaks the treeline of the forest and struggles through low branches, bushes, and across fallen trees, stopping when he can’t find the energy to even pick himself up out of the dirt. 

Viktor is so deep into the forest that he can’t see the sun, doesn’t realize how long he lays on the ground after tripping over a fallen branch spilling silent tears while clutching the rings from the chain in his hands. Doesn’t realize when once warm tears turn to ice. Tendrils of ice shoot across the forest floor, battering trees like waves, surrounding him like his mother's magic had so long ago. It cuts into his frozen skin, blood oozing slowly in the chill. The howling wind doing nothing to disguise his heartbroken cries. Even when the ice starts to encase his body he doesn’t notice. The numbness he’d been feeling for hours already misleading his instincts to move, to live, because he's already been frozen for what feels like an eternity. 

His storm is still raging when a pair of arms wrap around him. He tries pushing them away, whoever it is can’t be here because he can’t control his magic, he doesn’t want to try. But those arms act like an anchor, grounding Viktor before his magic blows everything away including himself. His brain is slow, catching a snippet of a word but not knowing who’s there, breath stuttering in but forgetting to let go. He comes out of the storm inch by inch, still wailing but bonelessly falling into the arms supporting him. Exhausted from using so much magic he catches sight of the damage he’s done before passing out. 

For days after, nothing could thaw his heart or break through the haze of loss. No amount of time in the sunlight, layers of yukata, or the once comforting waters of the onsen. Not the gentle hands of Hiroko feeding him broth and water. The comfort Toshiya’s arms had once provided evaporated. Mari’s companionable silence as she brushed tangled or greasy hair before pulling it into a confident braid, tied with a ribbon his mother had given him.

Even the feeling of his friend curled up next to him as Cheer Shine Vicchan rested on top of his chest did nothing. 

Viktor is a ghost as his grief burns through all the energy it takes for him to get out of bed, to breathe, to live. 

***

If Viktor put effort into understanding his misery, he’d have learned every day was harder than the one before, not simply one awful-beyond-comparison day. 

The first morning on the other side of his grief fugue, everything was wrong. The sun was too bright, it shouldn’t have been out anyways, the once cheerful color of the room was dull and even his own personal sunbeam, Yuuri, struggled to smile whenever he came into the room. On top of looking wrong, every word someone said sounded muffled like he was wearing thick winter earmuffs. He felt heavy, weighed down enough that even his tongue couldn’t be convinced to work. 

He woke up to a world he didn’t know for three days, refusing to show any signs of life aside from waking and sleeping, even his magic had refused to illustrate his mood. And the Katsuki’s could do nothing for the Prince but keep vigil and hope something, anything, could bring him back to them. 

Yuuri’s birthday party had been postponed, the family and their friends uncomfortable with celebrating when one of their own was in such pain. Yuuri hadn’t minded the delay, a genuine smile gracing his young face when he’d been told they would wait for Viktor to feel better. So on that very day, with no sign Viktor had been feeling well enough to come out, Yuuri waited until the light of the moon unfurled from behind clouds to see his friend. 

The youngest Katsuki had managed to pilfer one of the bright colored candles meant for his birthday dessert earlier in the day- before his friend’s life seemed to fall away. He’d slipped it up to his room under Vicchan, now carefully extracting it from its hiding place before sneaking into Viktor’s room. Even in the darkness, he knew that nothing had changed, the Viktor-shaped lump on the bed was in fact the Prince, the bag was still packed at the foot of his bed, and the drapes had been pulled so no light could disturb his restless sleep. 

Yuuri went to the window first and pushed the drapes away to flood the room in bright silver light. Viktor didn’t like the dark; it was one thing that Yuuri learned from the nights they spent together. Task complete, he scurried onto the bed and smiled upon seeing Viktor’s blue eyes locked onto his own. The Prince was awake this time. 

“Hello, Vitya,” he started gently, “I brought something fun.” Vicchan was set between them while Yuuri focused on the candle wrapped in his hands. The small boy didn’t expect an answer from his friend, Yuuri’s father had explained that Viktor was sad and tired from fighting demons. So he sat there with a smile and heart filled with hope, ready to see the Prince’s own smile once again. For a moment nothing but silence passed between them, then a bright green flame flickered to life on the wick. 

“Oh.” Yuuri’s expression blossomed from pure concentration to disbelief then delight. “I did it, Vitya, I did it!” But when he looked away from the now-orange flame he saw the tears falling on moon-pale cheeks. Viktor's reaction startled him enough that the candle was set aside on the nightstand. 

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d like it since you tried to teach me for so long, I didn’t mean to make you sad.” The younger boy is panicking while the prince’s attention is drawn to the small flame. He sees that the candle is striped and colored; it must have come from a box of birthday cake candles. He lets out a hiccuping laugh, one hand covering his face as tears continue their trek while the other reaches out for Yuuri’s hand.

“You did so well, Yuuri.” He sits up with weak arms, muscles protesting the movement after long hours of laying prone. Viktor brushes the tears on the sleeve of his yukata, gesturing for the other boy to move closer. Once they’re situated shoulder to shoulder the prince holds Yuuri’s hands in one of his while swirling the air around them with the other, a red rose appearing slowly. His voice is weak, audibly as tired as his body appears, and cracks around the words but he perseveres, “Here, the magic you like the most. Almost.”

Small hands cup the bud with reverence, eyes flitting between the fingers stroking soft petals of the darkest red, and the now clear eyes before him. Yuuri’s voice is quiet, careful not to break the tentative peace that Viktor is showing, “I thought you couldn’t do any Dimensional magic yet?” 

“It’s your birthday, I had to at least try- right? I am a prodigy, you know.” The smile Viktor gives is so close to being real that it’s easy to pretend that things might be normal when the sun rises. 

“You’ve been practicing,” he says with a smile of his own. Yuuri doesn’t mind that his friend lets go of the rose to rest his back against the wall, the exhaustion is clear in the dark circles under his eyes. “Hey, Vitya, I didn’t make you sad earlier did I?” He's focused on the petals, feeling them under his fingers while waiting for Viktor to answer or kick him out.

The soft sound of disagreement-turned-distress came first. “Not you, but the fire did. You know my father was a Master Cardinal but not that I learned how to use fire from him on our way here. The flames reminded me of him and the promise he made- to teach me lightning. I guess I’ll have to do that on my own.”

Sadness knocks at Yuuri’s heart, and his fingers stop their meandering to raise the rose between them. “You don’t have to learn it alone, we can do it together,” he emphasizes his statement while turning the dark petals into the bright blue Yuuri always made to match Viktor’s eyes. 

The prince nods as he leans heavily against his friend, not ready to talk yet but smiles freely when Yuuri places Vicchan onto his lap. “Keep Vicchan. He’ll protect you when I’m not here.” The serious face indicates that the youngest Katsuki would not tolerate anything other than acceptance. 

After a pregnant silence, Viktor nods and hugs the small toy closer, activating the Cheer Shine spell. “Ok, thank you. Thank you for everything, Yuuri.” He kisses the boy’s temple as his mother had whenever Viktor awoke from a nightmare, and curls into the embrace, candle forgotten on the nightstand. His thoughts are drifting when Yuuri presses a soft kiss to his cheek before settling into their embrace, tired from the magic that didn’t come easily on top of his worry for Viktor. 

Enveloped in the bubble of unconditional love, Viktor watched the candle as it burned lower and lower and the past week caught up to him. Before he fell asleep, he muttered his own declaration, to grow together and protect, against Yuuri’s temple where the prince had kissed him earlier. And when the sun began rising in the east it’s rays met the candle’s flame before enfolding the boys in the promise of new beginnings. 


	5. Will We Survive This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spell is cast but what outcome will it have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case I need to remind anyone, they're children. Another shortie but the next chapter will be longer.

Neither boy woke for breakfast. The Katsuki household was used to this behavior from Viktor and assumed their youngest had spent the night together as they do often, so they went on with their day without a care. 

At lunch, Hiroko checked the rooms just to make sure they were still upstairs and hadn’t slipped outside. Nothing appeared amiss or out of place in the room and the boys seemed peaceful, the still-burning candle that resisted being put out was curious rather than concerning. 

When it was time for dinner and neither responded or opened their eyes, the family worried. In the dark of the evening, the glow that surrounded the two and had been hidden by the sunlight prompted Toshiya to go and retrieve a healer. Dmitry and Marina had left the name of a trusted one in Pacenia that could be called if ever Hiroko’s magic wasn’t up to the task. Daj was a Master Fate and Ward Mage, he had to have some insight about what was happening. 

When the man left hours later, the family felt as though they had more questions than answers-- but they were safe and that was what mattered. 

_“It seems that their magic is in the process of commingling, not completely combined but each sharing a marker of the other’s magical signature. I can’t speak to knowing if it was on purpose or not and we can’t ask them right now but Bonding rituals are rarely done by accident.” The healer noticed the melted wax on the nightstand and then took in the boys and their surroundings; a glowing stuffed dog, blue rose, long-dried tear tracks, and their embrace._

_“What can you tell me about their Bond?” Toshiya had posted himself at the foot of the bed while Daj investigated, not trusting him enough to leave the room._

_“First, as you know, with any Bond they had to be emotionally and magically compatible and their power comparable otherwise the spell wouldn’t have activated at all. We won’t know until they tell us but it’s likely that they managed a friendship or brotherhood bond. The fact that last night was a full moon only augments the power of the spell but I can believe it was a coincidence.” He motioned one hand carelessly and floated the candle, the only component of the spell outside the magical glow, to the patriarch before continuing._

_“Bonding rituals can have a multitude of steps or requirements, like an exchange of gifts, but they all must be completed before the candle burns out and the sun rises. The fact that the candle still burns is strange but not alarming, it most likely means that the spell is still active and the Bond still forming.” Daj speaks while sweeping confident hands over the light surrounding the sleeping children, making sure their bodies aren’t negatively affected by the spell. “These rituals can be complicated and not something I ever thought I’d see a couple of Unbestowed children accomplish- accident or not.” There’s a mixture of awe and pride in the gentle voice and if his nerves hadn’t been frayed by worry Toshiya would be right there with him._

_From his spot at the end of the bed, Toshiya suspended the birthday candle over one hand while resting the other over the glow, careful not to touch it lest he end the spell before it’s complete.“How long can we expect them to sleep?”_

_“They’ll sleep for as long as it takes for their magic to integrate somewhere between halfway and completely with the other. Seeing as most mages who go through this are of age and sleep for half a day, this whole situation is more than unprecedented.” He relaxed back on his feet, turning his attention to Toshiya with confusion clear on his face._

_Unwilling to ask about what was worrying Daj, he redirected their conversation, “When Hiroko and I bonded we slept it off that night, the only thing that was different was we had been more hungry than usual. What will they need when they wake up?”_

_“They likely won’t tolerate being apart from one another and it’s possible that one, the other, or both will be over-emoting, perhaps under emoting. They may require more or constant physical contact, they may not speak aloud unless addressing others, they may act like there’s no one else around. But it’s important to remember no two integrations are alike._

_“And, like your own bonding they’ll be hungry but it’s been long enough for you to consider broth or porridge until their stomachs are up to proper food. Prince Viktor looks particularly ill but I can’t speak to his physical condition before this.” There was no judgment in the man’s voice, he’d expressed knowledge of the demise of the Artyan monarchs when Toshiya sought him out in Pacenia._

_“With the loss of his parents, it’s been difficult. Yuuri probably came in to show him some magic to try and cheer him up.” Toshiya paused, unsure of how his next question would be viewed, “How much will their powers change?”_

_“We’re both aware that Prince Viktor was exhibiting great control and skill across many disciplines of magic; considering his parents, this was expected. But Yuuri’s strength is a surprise; to match with the Prince means he has incredible amounts of magic. More than that, they’re both still growing into their powers. These two will probably have more power between them than they’ll know what to do with. However, the addition of the bond could prove helpful since it’s likely the presence of the other will be enough to regulate any magic outbursts._

_“Bonding depends on balance, despite being so young I believe it’s possible that they will both excel in their studies. They’ll be a pair to keep an eye on, that’s for sure.”_

_After the conversation ended Toshiya led the healer to the dining room for a drink, thanking him for his quick response and discreteness._

_As Daj was preparing to step off the engawa and activate the magic circle he’d been gifted for ease of travel, he turned and looked towards the room the boys were still sleeping in. “Katsuki-san, this bond has the potential to be dangerous. If they’re separated before they reach magical maturity, I don’t know what will happen. For now, I will do more research, please watch over them carefully and call on me if you have further questions.”_

_Before the mage could leave, however, Toshiya grabbed the man’s arm and frowned, able to ask the question that had been bothering him in the absence of others. “Why would Rina leave your name and not someone in their court? Why do you care so much?”_

_For a split second the face of the healer morphed into a vaguely familiar shape, bright blue eyes and sandy blonde locks trying to bring a memory to the surface, a memory ultimately lost with a blink of eyes and the return of Daj’s visage, gray eyes hiding behind hazel locks. “I can’t tell you that, Toshiya. Farewell for now,” a flash whited out his vision but there was no doubt that the healer would be gone when it cleared._

***

As the sun rose for the third time the candle’s flame turned from orange to blue to white before going out completely, the smoke disappearing along with the glow surrounding the two boys. Viktor woke first, moving to sit up immediately while his eyes inspected Yuuri’s face. He didn’t notice the quick retreat of Mari nor the entrance of the entire Katsuki family until Yuuri’s eyes opened and blue could gaze upon brown. 

Yuuri rolled his head and smiled at his family, extending a hand when he saw their tears. The two were surrounded by love once more, Viktor feeling truly warm for the first time since his outburst. They luxuriated in the warmth for long minutes, waiting for their brains to catch up to the situation.

When the words were available Yuuri spoke first, “What’s wrong, why are you all crying?”

“You were asleep for three days, honey. We weren’t sure when you’d wake up.” Hiroko was running her hand through her son’s hair, a watery smile showing that she wasn’t upset. With a long kiss to the crown of his head, she cast a quiet spell and slipped from the room to make them something to eat. 

Toshiya was next, speaking up as soon as his wife began her retreat, “How are you both feeling?” He had a hand running over silver hair, discreetly checking their charge’s temperature. 

Viktor’s gaze drifted between the stuffed dog and the conjured rose before answering, “Better than I have in a long time. What happened?”

“I’m going to get the Healer, he’ll want to look you two over.” Toshiya was satisfied with the answer for now, willing to wait a little longer for the answers he wanted. They were awake and acting more like they had all those days ago, the rest could wait. 

Alone, Viktor slipped out of bed and stretched out the tightness in his muscles. “Yuuri, what spell did your mom cast?” 

The smaller boy had followed Viktor’s lead and let out a long yawn as he answered, “a special sight spell, why?” 

The Prince paused to think back on everything he knew about his friend and deflated a little at not having known. “Oh, I’ve never noticed. How long does it last?” 

“It could last much longer but she puts it on every morning and takes it off before bed. You haven’t noticed me squinting at night when I visit?” They’re moving in an unorchestrated tandem to strip the bed linens Viktor setting the rose into his hair while Yuuri tucked Vicchan under his arm. 

Engrossed in the conversation they each take some of the small pile before heading into the hall. “Everyone squints at night, I didn’t think about it I guess. Why don’t you wear glasses like your mom and dad?”

“I kept breaking them or they would fall off into the ocean. Mama says she doesn’t mind casting the spell but I do have an emergency pair somewhere if I need them.” As their conversation ends Hiroko has already laid out a light breakfast for the pair and Mari takes the sheets, powerless to the hungry puppy look they’re both wearing. 

By the time Toshiya and Daj returned the boys were sitting at the table finishing their meal in silence. The patriarch noted with surprise that Viktor was operating chopsticks with ease despite a year of never having used any, aside from as a stabbing implement, and Yuuri was sitting with impeccable posture without prompting. 

The Healer set spell after spell to check the pair while beginning his questions. “Hello boys, I’m Daj. I was called here a few days ago because neither of you would wake up from a spell. Do you know what happened?”

At the synchronized shaking of heads, he continued on, “Do you understand how Bonding works?” Another solid no. “There are many rituals that allow two mages with comparable power and complementary affiliations to share their strength. Does that sound familiar, maybe from a teacher or your parents?” No. Not surprising since any mages involved need to have a good grasp of their magic plus a great deal of luck even for less powerful Bonds. 

It was time to switch tactics. “Ok, what happened the night you lit the candle?”

“Vitya was sad,” Yuuri began. He’d been the most talkative of the pair even before this and it was nice for the family to see that aspect hadn’t changed. “And he’d tried teaching me how to conjure flames but I couldn’t do it until I practiced a lot; I thought that seeing me finally light the candle would make him happy.” 

Daj saw them grasp hands between their bodies while the Prince’s other hand went to the plush dog sitting on his lap. Further inspection of the room showed the blue rose sitting in a vase on the other side of the room, both objects he’d seen inside the active spell. 

Yuuri must have been watching Daj’s line of sight since he spoke without prompting, “I made him cry but he still made me a rose.” The younger boy shot a brilliant smile to his friend despite the sadness he could feel coming off pale skin. 

“Why is the rose important, Yuuri?” 

“It’s the magic I like the most.” There was no thought between question and answer. 

The healer nodded and wrote more notes down before asking, “What kind of magic is Viktor best at?”

“He’s almost ready to become a Cardinal Master.” The note of pride in the small voice was hard to miss.

“And his worst?” In his head, Daj was crossing off possible Bonds with the information he was being given. 

“Dimensional magic, he couldn’t do any of the disciplines until the other day.” Viktor’s eyes were still firmly locked on the dog that was now giving off a gentle light, silent despite being the object of the conversation.

“But you like Dimensional magic the most? Isn’t that your primary affiliation?”

“I can use it but I like it when Vitya makes ice roses. This is the first time he’s made a real rose and I helped make it blue. But they’re the same color as his ice roses.” The young boy waits while the healer writes in his notebook. 

“Thank you. Now, you said you made the Prince cry and he made you the rose. What happened next?”

Both boys’ eyes clouded for a long moment, trying to remember. “We talked about his dad because Vitya was waiting to learn lightning from him. He thought he’d have to learn alone but I promised we’d learn it together. And I gave him Vicchan to protect him when I can’t be there.”

Viktor spoke for the first time that morning, no smile as was normal since the death of his parents. “The unfamiliar magic tired him out. I kissed his forehead and thanked him for everything, trying to make me feel better and being my friend. He kissed my cheek before falling asleep but I kind of repeated what he had about protection and growing into our magic together.” The seriousness of the situation suggested they should feel worried or scared but his chest was lighter than it had been despite everything, thanks to Yuuri. “I didn’t know we were casting anything.” His words were colored with a little regret, they could have been hurt after all.

Daj snapped his book closed with a sigh. They seemed fine for a pair of children who had entered unknowingly into what will grow into a strong magical bond. Besides, there was nothing they could do to reverse the ritual that wouldn’t be far more dangerous than what had already taken place. “Ok boys, listen to me carefully. We aren’t sure what kind of Bond you cast yet so you need to stay close, protect yourselves and each other like you said you would. Your magic has begun to mix, it’s just under half and half for each of you and it will continue to mix and even grow as you come into your magic, probably even after you reach magical maturity. Write to me if you have a problem, I’ll do what I can.”

The nods that he received, in turn, were more serious than most adults could execute outside of life or death situations. While a little surprised that they didn’t ask _him_ any questions, Daj assumed they were comfortable with discovering the answers on their own. He was sitting before the power-couple of the millennia; if he could already feel their strength, who knew how strong they would be in 6 years when they'd both reached Bestowment and later, maturity. 

It was a good thing that the war was finally over, Daj had no doubt that these boys would have seen the battlefield otherwise- whether they wanted to or not. 


	6. You Always Believed in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's business to attend to in Artya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri has just turned 6, Viktor's 9th birthday is weeks away.

Six days after receiving the news of his parents' deaths, Viktor is out in the field behind the Katsuki house with Yuuri at his side. Minako has stationed herself on the engawa having excused the pair of them from her lessons for the next few days since neither boy has recovered completely. She watched as Viktor filled a shallow area of the field that had been cleared with water before freezing it and stepping out onto the ice. Although the youngest Katsuki had seemed timid at the thought of joining, the idea of being apart from his friend pushed him onto the ice where he promptly fell. The flash of Viktor’s smile that Minako saw was enough to stop her from interfering. 

Out on the ice helped to his feet once again, Yuuri slips and slides with Viktor acting like his anchor, keeping the young mage standing. “Vitya, why are we on ice?”

“I wanted to show you this on your birthday, it’s why I was out here when,” for a moment Viktor appeared stuck in his memory but shook it off and continued. “I was younger than you when mama first took me out to one of the ponds in the palace gardens and we’d glide across the surface. It may have been close to my birthday, the lake had been frozen for weeks so she was confident that the ice wouldn’t break.” At the confused look in familiar brown eyes, Viktor let a small smile stretch across his lips, “Mama wasn’t good at Cardinal magic and I hadn’t developed mine yet.”

Now comfortable with standing, Viktor slowly shuffled the pair as he continued the story, “She was always so sad that we couldn’t skate in the summer so when my Cardinal powers manifested as ice I would freeze the ponds whenever she wanted.”

Yuuri didn’t flail like he wanted to upon their sudden movement, his hands held in the sure grip of his best friend. “Where did she learn how to skate?” 

“Her family lived further north than Artya, in Pacinia, where summers are short and winters much longer so the ice is extra thick and unyielding. Her parents taught all of their children and mama continued even after they moved out of their home country. She could do the most amazing things, spins, and jumps, she could even dance like Minako but all while on ice.”

“Oh wow, that sounds wonderful, Vitya. Can you do the jumps?” In his excitement, the younger boy flailed one hand wildly causing Viktor to adjust their stance to avoid falling. At the slightest hint of falling, Yuuri returned his hand to its previous position which made not eating it easier. 

“I’m not as good as mama, especially without skates. And I don’t think I’ll let go of you just yet. Maybe next time we can see if I remember, alright?” This smile reached his eyes, the blue sparkling in unreleased laughter. 

They’re out on the ice for at least an hour more when a messenger hawk appears on the horizon. Minako is headed towards the pair before she consciously decides to move and despite her head start the large brown bird is perched on Yuuri’s arm as Viktor unties the missive with trembling hands. Once the letter is free Yuuri launches the bird into the air while grabbing the handsome envelope from frozen fingers in one smooth move. When their teacher is close enough Yuuri passes the letter to her and moves back and forth the smooth ice, dragging Viktor by his hands with him. 

It only takes a few minutes for Viktor’s breathing to go from ragged to calm, for his mind to focus on their currently ungraceful movements, for hands to drip as the ice that started to creep up from his fingers melts. They stay out until Yuuri stumbles over a crack in the ice, Viktor quick to stabilize him and stepping out just as the sheet turns once again into water and evaporating. 

There is no breakdown, no further sign of distress but they walk arm in arm back to the house, Minako trailing behind them with fingers itching not only to see who was sending letters to the Prince but why. They stop at the dining room where Yuuri wraps Viktor in a blanket and sets Vicchan into restless hands, calling out for his mother while settling next to the Prince. 

Minako sat at the table and waited for Hiroko and Toshiya to answer their son’s call, Mari inevitably in lockstep with her father. With everyone present she laid the letter in the middle of the table, Viktor’s name glaring up from the white envelope. Toshiya’s hands got there first and on the back was the Artyan seal which meant the missive was from Yakov in his official position of Regent. 

“Go ahead, please. I don’t think I should read it first.” Viktor appeared to shrink into the blanket, flinching when the seal broke and shaking in a mixture of fear and anticipation in the silence as the patriarch reads. Toshiya thinks, not for the first time, that Viktor is one of the most resilient people he's ever met. At almost 9 years of age he's already lived through so much, and now tradition and ceremony are demanding more.

It isn’t worse news than Papovich’s letter but it is sensitive, Viktor can tell by the fortifying breath and soft tone he takes. “Your parents are lying in State but the two weeks will be over in 8 days. Yakov wants to know if you’d,” for a moment his voice breaks over the words, uncomfortable and unsure how to phrase the request. “The court has asked if you’re going to attend and speak at the funeral. He’s sent the Nikiforov seal for your response.” 

The adults are prepared for the outburst, a quick null spell, and the chill that enveloped the room was gone. Yuuri is quiet, fingers brushing over the signet ring that had managed to roll across the table when Toshiya released the envelope. When he does speak it’s with an authority unfamiliar in young children. “You don’t have to answer him today, Vitya. And if you go, we would be honored to join you.” 

Although it felt like his chest was being squeezed tight, Viktor pulled his sight away from the ring to take in the serious look passing between Yuuri and his elders. He wouldn’t say Yuuri was threatening anyone but at this moment, there was no way anyone would tell him no. For tonight, the conversation was over and Yuuri turned the topic to dinner as his small fingers slid the ring back in the envelope and out of sight. 

***

The next morning Toshiya and Minako helped draft Viktor’s response, he would be in attendance with the entire Katsuki family and Minako as his entourage. The eulogy would be written by the Prince with the assistance of his guardians, no input from the Court was welcome. They made it clear that by the time Yakov received the letter the group would already be on their way and the country could anticipate the return of their Prince two days before the funeral. 

Toshiya watched on as Viktor pressed the seal into deep green wax before dropping the ring on the desk like it burned and walking out with Yuuri at his side. The letter is set inside the patriarch’s robes, ready to be delivered once the anchors are raised and they clear the dock.

Before the sun reaches its zenith their ship, Akatsuki, is ready for departure. Viktor and Yuuri are putting their bags away when a messenger hawk carries away the letter destined for the Artyan palace. With nothing to spoil the experience for what it is, Viktor stands on the bridge next to Yuuri as he sails for the first time in his life. Noonday sunlight glinting happily off the pair of rings the Prince had been convinced to wear despite his initial reluctance.

By the time the ship is docked in the harbor 5 days later the entire crew is ready for an evening of calm. Despite the excitement and attempts by others to exhaust him every day before bed, Viktor suffered nightmares at least once a night. On land, it would have rustled the grass and trees, brought a storm, or maybe frosted his window over. Out on the open ocean, however, his uncontrolled powers in conjunction with typical weather patterns had almost caused disaster more than once. 

On one of the worst nights Yuuri had awoken to find his friend missing from the cabin they shared, Vicchan set to one side obviously unable to bring comfort. When Yuuri found him Viktor had been watching the lightning illuminate the sky, long hair ripped free of the sleeping braid by vicious winds. His cheeks were red, salty water crashing up against the sides of the ship and being hurled until the droplets hit skin like an endless barrage of stingers. 

It took the younger boy a few minutes to understand that although Viktor was standing and his gaze was on the rough water, he wasn’t truly aware of his surroundings. Returning them to bed was easy but neither could fall asleep. 

Yuuri hoped that sleeping in the same bed as they had in the past would keep the nightmares away, but all his presence accomplished was keeping Viktor in the cabin most nights. Although there were plenty of accomplished mages aboard the ship they didn’t have the power to calm mother nature and instead their focus was on keeping the ship afloat through a complex net of wards and spells. 

Viktor found himself apologizing so much that his throat became sore. So he too was relieved to step off the gangplank and onto the dock, ready to be whisked further inland and hold less sway over the natural force of the sea. 

Approaching the carriage, Viktor hyper focuses on it while trying to ignore the familiar vocal commands that the mounted soldiers were giving their steeds. If the windows froze over as soon as the door was closed behind Hiroko, no one mentioned it. An hour later they arrived at the Palace and thanks to Hiroko’s skilled Dimensional magic and some well-timed Void spells the Court saw nothing amiss, no sign of uncontrolled magic or sadness he was not allowed to express. 

When someone mentioned how tired his royal highness looked, their comment was dismissed by Toshiya, firm enough to end the conversation there. “I’m afraid that seafaring on rough seas does not agree with the Crown Prince, an affliction many share.” 

They’re all settled into their rooms and newly reconvened for supper in a parlor room when Yakov arrives with the food dismissing Viktor from any remaining public appearances until the funeral. He leaves the young man and his guardians after handing over a slip of paper containing the traditional Artyan last rites. Before the door closes, Viktor catches the softer timbre of a heartbroken man saying sorry. 

The Prince doesn’t have it in him to acknowledge the apology, not while he’s surrounded by the family he gained and mourning the one he lost. The family’s rooms seem to have long lost their warmth and nothing smells like it should, even the jagged edges of anxiety surrounding the hallway he’d been shot in were gone. Loss of emotional connection to his childhood home caused a new stab of grief to further ravage what remained of himself. 

After a dinner that he couldn’t manage to eat, the two boys are laid to sleep while being watched over by Minako. Yakov had mentioned that the royal family was protected at all times by guards but one look from all three Merchant mages had him grumbling about one time mistakes before turning away and allowing a maid to show the group to their chambers. Despite Yuuri’s continued presence and perpetual Cheer Shine Vicchan, the capital city suffered wind gusts and a sudden thunderstorm that disappeared as fast as it was formed after wreaking its havoc. 

The next day Viktor takes Yuuri to the pond for a few hours of forced redirection of his thoughts, the younger boy quiet and reserved careful to mimic Viktor’s behaviors. They sit and he shares a few stories about his mama’s skating and how his father would fall every time he stepped onto the ice. The two also visit the training grounds, stables, and even retrace the path he ran to escape the assassins; places where Viktor could remember his parents and their love for him, stories shared so that someone would understand the sheer magnitude of what he’d lost.

By no conscious choice of his own, the Prince finds himself sitting in a pew at the foot of the platform holding his parents, staring intently at the shining wards designed to keep them in stasis until the funeral tomorrow as his fingers curl obsessively around their rings. He’s well aware that now is not the time to show his grief, that there are eyes watching for any conduct unbecoming of the Prince; any further healing would be done far from these unforgiving walls. There’s resentment but after a day of wandering around the Palace and feeling like a stranger, he’s tired. 

Yakov joins them in the pew long after the sun has set, content to sit in silence while gathering the courage to speak, remembering the coded section of the letter informing him of an accidental Bond. His old eyes don’t miss the fact that little Yuuri has since fallen asleep at the Prince’s side, relaxed by the candlelight, and heavy incense. The old mage takes a deep breath of the familiar spiced air and holds out a small iridescent gem hanging from a delicate silver chain. There are fine wards etched into the small object in a pattern Viktor doesn’t understand at first glance.

“Dima would have wanted you to have this, regardless of tradition.” His voice sounds older and rougher than Viktor remembered it but it’s soft in deference to their location. Blue eyes break from their fixation on the gem and take in the shrugged shoulders, dark bags under familiar eyes, extra lines scored into the man's face. Viktor lays his free hand on top of the gem but doesn’t take it, instead leaning his body into Yakov’s side. It takes a moment but the frail visage shatters when that hand clamps down and turns the lean into a firm embrace that lasts for long minutes.

No one interrupts them but they pull apart in the same silence, Viktor’s hand warmly wrapped around the Bestowment gift his parents had chosen for him. Yakov leaves without addressing what transpired, only wishing them a good night in that same soft voice. The added Viten’ka lost on a lump in the Regent’s throat. 

With something settled in his soul, for one night Viktor manages to keep the nightmares at bay. 

***

Standing on the podium while others speak is easy, Viktor focuses on the setting sun rather than the pyre behind him, or even finds the Katsuki family watching him in return. The Prince has had hours of practice not thinking about the festivities, ceremonies, and speeches given ad nauseam since the rising of the sun. Giving the eulogy is harder but in the end, they’re just words on a page; Viktor had time yesterday to observe and say a final goodbye to his parents. Today was just the orphan Prince speaking in order to allow others to say goodbye to their King and Queen. 

“It has always been the goal of the Nikiforov line to bring prosperity and happiness to the people of Artya, even during the adversity the War brought; I believe my father and his predecessors tried their best. They lead their armies through endless deployments, sacrificing time with their families so that others would not have to make the same decision. Their legacy will forever be this Kingdom and her allies, families, and friendships forged in blood. 

“After generations, we can finally say that the Great War is over. Its time has come and gone but many of us have lived and continue to live through loss and learning to say goodbye. For some, however, as these two weeks of mourning end, it will be our first time saying our final farewells. This does not mean that those whose hearts are heavy must return to how they lived before, for our lives have sustained irreparable damage in these losses.

“What it does mean is that we can no longer afford to continue down the path of hatred that allowed the Great War to rage for so many decades. As Mages our magic allows us to perform wonderful and unbelievable magic but there is no magic that can prevent loss. There is no magic to protect from the world's hurts. And there is no magic that can heal a broken heart, none that can bring back those we loved. 

“With this flame may we cleanse and fortify ourselves with the hope that future generations will flourish from the peace our brave Mages have wrought.” Standing before his parent’s pyre Viktor raises his hand to summon a flame and is mirrored by any in attendance with the ability to call on the element. Those unable to summon their own flames holding candles to be lit by neighboring Cardinals as Viktor speaks the final goodbye that many generations of loved ones have uttered before, eyes clear and voice strong. 

“All new beginnings are welcomed by the rising of the sun in the East and we are reminded of their natural end as it sets in the West. Now as the sun sets on these lives, we surrender them to the stars; the vastness above that welcomes all.” Viktor turns to face the pyre then, frozen at the idea of what he was supposed to do next. 

Yuuri breaks away from his parent’s grip when the flame in Viktor’s hand wavers because the Prince is silently crying faced with the reality of the situation. With the added support of his Bonded, Viktor can remain standing as the pyre ignites by his own hands, to be encouraged by the attendants who will watch it in shifts to make sure it neither goes out early nor rages out of control.

“May we remember all those we have sent before. May those souls guide you to your final resting place. May your eternal light guide us through the darkness of tonight and every night after. May you watch over us until we are once again reunited in the fabric of the stars.” Getting through the last part was infinitely harder but with time and the heat from the flames, the tears would soon disappear.

Once there are no more words Viktor isn’t tempted to move from his place at the pyre. It is the solemn duty of the next of kin to observe the burning to serve as witness and protector of those who came before; an ancient tradition set when necromancy ran unchecked. 

Fortunately, there are no traditions or laws that say he must observe alone. 

***

The attendants have changed three times and the sun is just starting to set the horizon alight when the relative peace is shattered. Yuuri’s parents had retired at the last shift change with Mari, leaving the pair alone for less than five minutes before someone else would arrive and keep watch over the Prince, the last of his line. There are no warnings, just the thud of a small dagger lodging high into Viktor’s thigh. The pair don’t panic, Viktor doesn’t even cry out in pain, he just raises a barrier of ice between the direction of the attack and allows Yuuri to lower him to the ground. 

Yuuri is just about to touch the knife when a ward sequence lights up on the hilt and it disappears at the same moment Minako steps out of a walkway with Yakov. The dance teacher slash martial art teacher slash first mate is gone in a blink but the Regent rushes to them, healing magic weak but ready to be used should it be needed. 

“Your Highness, are you alright?” Worried about the young Prince he throws himself onto old knees, uncaring of the pain he’ll experience later. 

Viktor hisses as Yuuri tugs at the hole in the fabric to rip it further and paw at his skin. “I’m fine, Yakov, it didn’t even hurt.” A few moments pass before a small hum of thought preempts the pulling of Yakov’s hand over the small wound. Now free to look around, Yuuri notices Minako coming back with a frown while Yakov huffs at being directed by the young man. 

“It could have been cursed, we need to get you looked at immediately.” 

“It wasn’t cursed.” Yuuri is calm where Yakov is obviously troubled, likely thinking back to the attack that landed the Prince in the care of the Katsuki’s. 

“Excuse me, young man?” He trips over the start of the question but spits out the rest with indignation and increasing volume. 

“Cursed objects either leave a scar or a Ward sequence, something tangible, unlike verbal curses. There were no ward sequences left behind and you’ve fully healed the wound without it scarring. He wasn’t cursed this time.” Yuuri was sure he was the only one who saw the hilt light up so he couldn’t be sure of what spell the dagger hid, but he knew what it wasn’t. 

Yakov tries to send for a healer anyways but Viktor refuses to leave until the bones on the pyre have turned to ash and the ash has gone cold. This once, Viktor would be the Prince everyone wanted him to be. 

***

After the attack, in an emergency meeting that excluded the Prince, the Katsuki family made it clear that they would be taking Viktor back with them even if they had to use force. The court had been in an absolute uproar at the insinuation that His Royal Highness was unsafe inside the palace; fervently ignoring the first and almost successful attempt that had happened in those very walls. Much of the arguments stemmed from the identity of who exactly the Katsuki family was, what they had been before receiving a Royal pardon, and how dangerous they were known to be. There was heavy support for the idea that it had been the Prince’s guardians who had attacked at the pyre which almost sparked a physical altercation. 

Anton Popovich, who could intimidate air, championed for the Prince’s continued stay with the, heavily emphasized, merchant family. He put to rest the belief that the family would be unable to protect the heir of Artyan by reminding the Court of who had taught Queen Marina combat and sharing a heavily edited story of how they helped Viktor through the magical outburst caused by the news of losing his parents. Yakov, as Regent, also shared the letter King Dmitry had written that released Viktor from duty until the young man decided he was prepared or reached magical maturity. 

***

When Viktor had tried to relinquish the gem to his guardians after the funeral, they refused to take custody saying it would be best if he began wearing it immediately. There was nothing that said mages couldn’t possess and wear their gems earlier than 11, only that it was tradition to give them the year before Bestowment since most children didn’t develop their powers so early. Viktor hadn’t known that their purpose was so that others could be made aware of the potential for a magical outburst but was more than willing to wear it because of that. 

Viktor had managed to open his parent’s letters to him when they returned from the funeral but the messages did little to heal his broken heart, reading those warm but regret-filled words tore Viktor apart inside despite the calm he’d finally achieved with Yuuri’s help. The guilt that had shot through him at the reminder of Anton and his injury catapulted him through the house to ask Hiroko if the man had been alright, the Prince hadn’t seen him at the funeral after all. Luckily, the man was fine but maintained distance in deference to Viktor’s loss and his role in delivering the news.

His bestowment gem helped others monitor his magic but he couldn’t depend on them for the rest of his life, he had to take control here and now. So they practiced magic every day, their control more precise than anyone in memory had ever been capable of at such a young age. While impressive apart, their power shone when they cast while holding hands. Luckily, no one really made them separate after the first tests of their bond were held; the magical backlash on the young bond had both boys unconscious for half a day.

Three weeks after the ritual ended and it seemed that the Prince’s emotional upheaval would soon end, the Bond still refused to settle. The two magics continued to integrate but it was the slowest and most unimpressive aspect of their Bond, just the slightest bit more now than before noticeable to none but the healer. Daj, now a common addition to the family dinner table was confused to no end, leaving him only with the recommendation the two continued to do everything together. 

Yuuri sat gamely beside the Prince while he was tutored in statecraft, Viktor joined the family when they visited their ships in the port, and both were happy to complete course work in silence. But when the skies were clear of the threat of storms, they returned to their growing patch of dug-up field, skating past the setting of the sun and under the light of ever brighter stars.


End file.
